


Post Mortem

by Hiisisynti (Hiisilija)



Series: Consent [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, During Canon, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Brainwashing, Past Drug Addiction, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Season/Series 07, Prince Lance (Voltron), Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-07-27 21:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16228118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiisilija/pseuds/Hiisisynti
Summary: Lance McClain has finally escaped. He's broken free of Lotor's perilous grasp and returned to his friends; his home.But something's wrong. Keith has returned as well. He's bigger and scarrier and... He's not Keith. He's not brash or outspoken; he's holding back. He's patient, of all things.The last thing Lance needs is for Keith to respect his distance. Because Lotor is in his head--he's corrupting Lance's dreams. Lance can't tell what's real and what's not.He almost wants to go back to Lotor; where everything made sense.





	1. Chapter 1

**Lotor**

* * *

_"Let me go."_

The words startled Lotor. Lotor was trying everything he could. He was desperately thinking of any way around this. He wanted Lance to be free, but he also needed to be with him. He wanted Lance to own his own body, but then he couldn't take it when he needed to. Lotor leaned down, trying not to cry. He wrapped his arms around Lance's waist, feeling the tough, hardened skin under his palms. What once was soft and delicate had become calloused and hoarse under Lotor's care. Lotor dug his nose into Lance's beautiful skin, remembering a time when it smelled uniquely of earthy herbs and chemicals. Now, sweat and blood filled Lotor's nostrils.

_"Let me go."_

How could Lance ask this? Why did he always think this? No matter what Lotor did, Lance always circled back to his innate desire to be independent. What would Lotor be without him? Lotor used to be strong, level-headed, and untouchable. How did he become this? Is Lance the price he has to pay to become himself again? Unstoppable? Impenetrable? "I'm scared, Lance."

"So set me free," Lance pleaded, his voice quivering. He started to shake. He started to cry more, softer than before, but with more heart.

"Let me leave here—"

No.

"—now."

No.

"End all of this."

_No_.

Just, no. How could he consider it? After everything they'd been through? After how hard Lotor tried? After how far Lance had come?

Lotor slowly pulled his hands away, feeling Lance's touched, battered skin. Lotor ruined him. He didn't ruin him by touching him—Lotor wasn't bored of him—he took Lance away from who he was. A Paladin of Voltron; loud, funny, ecstatic, alive, and free. Lance had been free.

"Go," Lotor decided, speaking with firmness.

Lance froze. He was terrified of speaking. Lotor could feel that in his veins. The quintessence they shared—the energy they would always share—it was stirring with fear.

"Really?" Lance asked, his voice already alive.

"Get out of here while you can," Lotor pleaded. Lotor felt his gut swirl with lead as he realized he was grateful. He wanted Lance gone. He couldn't wait for this to be over; the freak-outs, the secrets, the constant battle for Lance's love. "Just go home. End this now."

Lance crouched down, his body hiding from Lotor, waiting. Lance was waiting for Lotor to take it back. He was very still, expecting a test. What could Lotor do to tell him he meant it?

The Lance's eyes widened, flashing white. He scrambled out from underneath Lotor. Lance scrawled on his back, limbs flying to get away. Lotor's heart cracked. Was Lance that terrified? Did he want his independence that bad?

Lance leaped to his feet, backing away. He didn't take his eyes of Lotor once. Did he really not trust Lotor? Did he really think Lotor was going to take it back? Lotor was going to prove him wrong. Lotor was going to show Lance that, yes, he could give Lance everything he dreamt of—like a true Prince.

Lotor stood, making sure his voice came out gently, "Lance."

Lance shook his head, panicked. He really thought Lotor would take it back. Lotor sighed. Why could Lance never see beyond himself?

"Lance..." Lotor pleaded as he approached him. He really needed to show Lance he could be kind, gentle, and trustworthy. Lotor took Lance's arms in his hands, running his palms down the flesh before catching him by the wrist. Lotor heard Lance gasp as he clutched his injured wrist. Lotor fought to urge to stop everything and rush him to the hospital. Lotor trembled, promising himself he wouldn't apologize for hurting Lance. He hurt him too much this time. It was all too much.

Instead, Lotor turned his attention to Lance's bracelets—his shackles. He had to tell Lance it was real. He needed Lance to know. Lance had to know. "... You know I love you?"

Lance pulled away, afraid once more. Lotor's chest seized. Was Lance so horrified from Lotor taking this back? All Lotor wanted to do was take it back. He had to apologize and be with his husband again. Right? Or was Lotor still holding onto a fantasy of Lance—adorned in silk and jewelry, a beautiful chain on his wrist.

Lotor stopped himself from saying anything more, he was only hurting himself. Lotor focused on his quintessence and removed the bands.

Immediately, Lance surged forward, wrapping his arms around Lotor's neck. He kissed him with a renewed energy—one Lotor had never seen on him. For a moment, Lotor's fantasy was fulfilled. Lotor kissed back as much as he could, still terrified of breaking Lance again. Lance sighed softly.

Lotor could feel escape within an inch of his grasp. Lotor's liberation was so close, all he had to do was let Lance go. If Lance were to leave now, Lotor would be free to pursue his dreams; to be himself. He needed to end this kiss before he changed his mind. Lotor stumbled back.

"Go now," Lotor pleaded. He badly ached to have Lance back in his arms. "Now."

Lance rocked as he danced away. He kept his bright, glowing eyes on Lotor for as long as possible. Lance's hand outstretched, fumbling with the door behind him. His hand found steady ground. Lance stilled; opened the door.

How could Lotor just watch him leave? "I love you."

Lance rushed out of Lotor's vision. Lance wobbled as he ran, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Lotor wished Lance had returned his sentiment. But if he had, would Lotor have made him stay? Lotor should've.

"Lance!" Lotor called, his voice cracking.

Was it too late? How badly did Lance want to escape them?

Lotor stood in the doorway, gazing at his love—too far to hear him. Lance was running too fast. He was too scared.

Lotor's guards turned to him. They awaited new orders; seeking permission to hunt him down. It's clearly what Lotor required them to do; all they needed was an order.

Lotor didn't give one—he couldn't speak.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote Chapter 1 into a real chapter now. You won't miss anything, but it's there.

**Hunk**

* * *

"Lance, where are we going?" Hunk wheezed, the bruising on his ribs protesting. "Lance!"

"Hurry!" Lance begged. "We don't have a lot of time."

Hunk shaped his lips into an 'O,' breathing in and out steadily. "What's happening?"

Lance panted, looking at Hunk over his shoulder. He looked panicked. "We're leaving."

"Yeah, I got that," Hunk said.

"And Lotor knows."

Hunk touched the bruise on his jaw at the mention of Lotor's name. He'd been so terrifying, hovering over Hunk. All but bragging about what he's done to Lance. He dropped his hand, eyes catching the harsher, identical bruise on Lance's jaw.

Lance probably hadn't been as lucky as Hunk had. He had no escape. Hunk wiped fearful tears away, meeting Lance's calm, steady gaze.

"Lotor knows?" Hunk asked. "What..." Hunk paused. What happened didn't matter now. "What do we do?"

"We get out of here. Fast." Lance grabbed his hand, pulling him down the corridor. "I know Lotor... He won't..."

Lance let go, running faster now. "We have to hurry."

Hunk breathed through the pain, trying to keep up with Lance. His fear was crippling him while Lance's adrenaline gave him strength. Hunk needed to be strong.

"I'll never get another chance," Lance sobbed.

"Do you know where we're going?" Hunk asked.

"Of course," Lance said, his words twinged with Lotor's vernacular. It made Hunk sick.

"So keep running," Hunk whispered, ordering himself more than his friend.

Lance led them to a room, all steel gray walls and thick bars. Hunk's Bayard laid on the table, next to an identical black one. "Where's yours?"

Lance shook his head. "I don't want it."

Hunk stuttered. "What do you mean?"

Did Lance not want to be a Paladin? Was he not willing to fight?

"Lotor has it," Lance said. "My suit-"

"Is right here!" A new voice said. A young, Part-Galra solder ran in, holding the suit in her arms. She also held Lance's Bayard.

Hunk huffed, relieved. Now, they wouldn't be leaving a powerful weapon in Lotor's hands. And, it seemed, they gained an ally. But Lance was stricken, stepping away from her like his life depended on it.

Hunk leaped for the table, grabbing his Bayard and turning on the figure. "Who are you?"

"No," Lance's voice cracked. "Hunk, she's okay."

Hunk put the gun down slowly. Okay, but okay like, Lotor was okay? He kept his eye on her.

"She's one of Lotor's guards. She... what are you doing here? Is he...?"

"He's not here yet, but you're right. He's losing his mind. You should leave. Now," She advised.

Lance froze, "Losing his-"

"Don't worry about it. I grabbed your suit." She approached Lance. "And your Bayard.

Lance didn't flinch as she presented him with the objects.

"It's okay," she said. "I've repaired it."

Lance's face flashed with horror. He took it from her quickly, hiding it from Hunk with his own body. His face was glowing red. "Why?"

"I'm with the Blade."

Hunk cleared his throat. He was certain he was interrupting something, if she was Marmoran, then Lance had a friend with him all this time. This might be very emotional for him. "We really need to leave."

"Why did you never do anything?!" Lance yelled, his face tormented by grief.

"I did all that I could, young Paladin-"

Lance flinched away from the name. He fell away from her and drew his Bayard.

Did he not want to be a Paladin?

"I'm sorry," The Marmoran looked equally horrified. "I won't call you—I had to get you your Bayard. Don't ever return."

Lance turned away from her, exposing his neck. She wasn't a threat to him any longer. He swiped the Black Bayard from the table.

He looked at Hunk. "Hurry,"

Hunk grabbed his armor, pulling it off the many shelves where the Galra had taken it apart. He'd never be able to carry all these pieces in his arms. Hunk started putting the armor on as fast as he could. He listened in on their hushed whispers.

"I can take you to your Lions."

"You know where the Yellow Lion is?"

"They're in the same place."

"Then I have it from here."

"You know where?"

"Yes," Lance said louder, almost full volume. "I'm not the same person I was."

"But take this."

Hunk turned around, seeing Lance had put on his armor as well. He missed the exchange but heard the Marmoran give Lance something. His worries and suspicions were set aside as he took in Lance's image. He looked good in his Blue Paladin armor. So familiar Hunk wanted to cry.

"Thank you," Hunk addressed the Marmoran.

Lance waved his hand, urging Hunk to follow. He led the way down several halls. Soon, Hunk couldn't even see the woman anymore. Lance stopped a few times like he was trying to remember where to go. But they kept a speedy pace. Soon enough, Hunk could feel his lion. He stopped following Lance and began to run alongside him.

Hunk could feel Yellow's energy. He ran directly for his Lion. Once inside the bay, he could see the Red Lion too. Yellow sat there, steady and firm as Hunk ran for it. Red leaned forward before yellow, bounding loudly and scoping Lance up in their mouth. Red turned and started running towards the bay doors, surely, before Lance had a chance to make it to the cockpit.

Yellow leaned down, building a bridge for Hunk to enter. He sat in his chair, reaching out and feeling the stability of his Lion. Lotor couldn't hurt him in here.

But every moment Hunk worried about Lotor, his mind reeled to Lance. Lance needed stability more than Hunk. Lance had suffered more than Hunk.

Loud alarms blared throughout the bay where the Galra stashed their lions. "Lance?"

"I hear them, hurry. Get to the doors!"

Hunk felt Yellow barrel towards Red, their urgency sharper than Hunk's. Hunk placed his Lion strategically behind Red, blocking Lance from further harm.

"Open the hatch," Lance pleaded.

Hunk bit his lip. "Is she opening them for us?"

"No, she's not." Red pawed at the floor. "Please, please, please," Hunk heard Lance whisper.

Hunk felt sweat beading down his forehead. The hatch wasn't opening.

Then, as if projected from Red's vocal cords: "Lotor!"

Hunk froze. Was Lance challenging him? What was...

The doors thundered as they opened. They slid apart fast, sucking out Galra sentries—the same sentries that were firing on them. Was Lotor letting them go? Why were the doors opening now?

Red planted their paws, digging into the metal. "Go now! He won't keep them open!"

In a red flash, a powerful gun formed on the Red Lion's back. Lance fired at the gears, breaking one hinge and freezing it.

"Wait!" Hunk yelled over the coms. "Wait for them to get wider!"

"Just go!" Lance ordered.

Hunk obeyed, he had no choice. A part of him feared that Lance wouldn't follow. Like Keith told him, Lance was too afraid to go back. Not if they couldn't get those bracelets off. Did Lance still have them on? Hunk didn't see. But if he did, Hunk was fairly certain he knew how to remove them; he'd had a long time to study. Lance had to be following. He needed to believe Lance wasn't dangerously sacrificing himself—as he had in the past. Lance had to be right behind him. What reason did he have to stay?

Oh, god. Hunk realized with horror. He had no reason to believe Lance would follow.

The gears froze. Hunk thought, for a moment, that Lance had stalled that door as well when they started to slide together. Hunk charged forward, trying to slip through the gates and escape. Yellow was too big for him to waste another second on thinking. If Lance wasn't coming, there was nothing he could do. He needed to get out of here—launch a rescue mission if he could—but Hunk needed to fight for his own safety.

Hunk soon saw that Lance was right. The right door, the one with the broken gears, wasn't sliding in. The left one was, though. Hunk urges Yellow to fly; pound and fly. He was going to make it.

Hunk saw stars and open space before his whole body jolted forward. His heat ached as he looked at the floor. His feet dangled at an awkward angle as he slumped forward. He shifted, looking out Yellows eyes and seeing nothing but space. Loud, metallic grinding sounds alerted Hunk to the truth: the doors closed on Yellow's midsection. He was stuck.

A lound pang emanated from the ceiling. The speedy Red Lion leaped from his roof and out the doors. Its slender form squeezed through the doors just right.

Oh, so Lance was the one leaving Hunk behind. Still, facing the threat of death, Hunk found his earlier reasoning to be true. Lance had to fight for his freedom. He had to escape—better one than none.

Hunk grunted, feeling the shock of his collision in his muscles. "Lance, you should—"

"Keep Yellow still," Lance ordered. The Red Lion turned, facing Hunk. The Lion glowed once again, a new weapon materializing over its head. The guns nozzle was long and pointed, like Lance's sniper rifle. Its base was thick, fixed to the Red Lion's back.

A warm, orange light gleamed from the nozzle. Lance fired concentrated heat in Hunk's direction. He didn't see where the beam hit, but he felt the heat rise. "H—Hey! Be careful with that!"

"Just let me try! I can do this!" Lance yelled. His voice was strong, his tone desperate but determined.

Hunk heard the metal grinding stop. He felt the tension in Yellow release. He pushed his Lion forward to no avail.

"I'm sorry," Hunk pleaded, "I am so, so sorry. We'll get you fixed up. Please try, just, please..."

Hunk felt his Lion awaken. Yellow fought against every urge to lay down and give up. They worked together, expending every ounce of quintessence they had. Slowly, they gained momentum. They started to glide forward.

"You should still go without me," Hunk reasoned.

Lance whispered, "No, we've won this. He won't try and stop us again. We leave together."

Hunk wanted to debate. He wanted to ask how Lance knew they were safe. Lance didn't see Lotor the same way Hunk did—the way they all could. But he couldn't push it.

Together, Hunk and Lance flew passed the fleet unhindered—into the open space beyond.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lance**  

* * *

Lance was curled up in his pilot's chair—fast asleep. He'd finally given in to Hunk's insistence that he rest for the night. They were traveling stag in their lions, so they would have to sleep in shifts. It left Lance dreading the next day; he would have to be alone.

Hunk would be there, yes. He would be in his Lion. They'd fly by side. But... Hunk would be asleep. After staying alert through Lance's rest, he'd have to sleep. Lance would be alone with his thoughts, staring into space—the memory of Lotor...

Lance could feel him standing behind him. Lotor had a looming presence to him. Lance would feel him before he saw him. His energy flooded the room and slowed Lance's heart rate down. Lance felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His arms exploded with goosebumps. This was the part where Lotor's fingers would graze his skin. Lotor's mood was impossible to predict. He either moved slow, touching Lance gently on his exposed skin before kissing his cheek... Or he jerked him suddenly, enveloping him in a breathless kiss.

Lance sat up, the cockpit remaining the same. He glanced around, he wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon. His eyes were heavy, his face twitching.

"Hunk," Lance called. "I think you should sleep. I—I won't be able to for a while."

No response. Maybe Hunk passed out from exhaustion. How long had Lance been asleep for?

Lance sighed, whispering under his breath, "Okay, buddy..."

Lotor's fingers were still on Lance—about to be on Lance. He was behind him.

But Lance refused to turn around. His instincts had trained him. As subtle as Lotor would be sometimes, making eye contact was like antagonizing a bull. Lotor would charge Lance and take what he wanted.

God, how had Lance started to think these things? He'd never doubted Lotor before, not really. Lance was always willing to alleviate Lotor's stress, any way possible. Now he was horrified by it.

No. That couldn't be it. Sex with Lotor was fine. It was great! It was one of the highlights of their relationship. Lance was just high stung. He was floating in space at a very low speed—so he and Hunk could sleep. Lance didn't want to believe Lotor was coming for him; not after he let him go. After all, he'd taken it back less than an hour later. He may have opened the doors when Lance asked, but he also tried to close them. He may have let them fly away, but who was to say he wasn't coming? Why wouldn't he change his mind again? What was stopping him from hunting Lance down?

A hand grabbed Lance's hair—suddenly. Lance screamed his air flow cutting off as someone jerked him back. How did someone get on his Lion?

"Hunk!" Lance called, feeling his Lion's distress. A comm opened up.

Lance was lifted one more time before falling suddenly to the floor. It hurt, but Lance was used to it by now. Lance spun around, propping himself on his elbows to face the intruder. A soldier in Lotor's blue and orange—it was Lotor. Lance knew him anywhere. How did he get on the Lion?

"Red? What did you do?" Lance' voice cracked. How could his own Lion betray him? First, Red doesn't listen to him—piloting without him at the Kral Zera—now it hands him over to Lotor?

Lotor's hands traveled the control before settling on a panel. He switched off Red's comms.

Lance had to do damage control. Now.

"Lotor? Has something happened?" Lance asked. It was nice, casual; like he expected Lotor to be here.

Lotor ripped his helmet off, his hair falling loosely around his shoulders and in his face. He hadn't gelled it or pinned it back. His eyes were unfocused—wandering down Lance's figure. "I miss you."

Lance inhaled, flinching away when Lotor grabbed his hair again—aggressively. "How'd you get on my Lion?"

Lotor smiled. "Travelling so slow with Fraunhofer lines... I got into Green, didn't I?"

Lance's heart was racing. Hunk's lion was still floating peacefully next to him. The comms were off, but there had to be a way—

"Look at me," Lotor demanded.

Lance froze, staring at the Yello Lion. Like antagonizing a bull.

"Look at me!" Lotor yelled, belligerent.

Lotor punched Lance, sending him back to the ground. He slapped him again, spinning his vision away. Lotor was on him, his weight crushing. His hair tickled Lance's face. Lance screamed, abandoning pretense.

"Hunk! Hunk! No... No! Get off! Lotor... NO!"

Lotor's death-grip was on his wrists again. His hand was stroking his legs, forcing them to open with brutal jerks.

"No!" Lance kicked, giving Lotor the opportunity to split him open again. It was the Green Lion all over again. Lotor was going to cut his suit open. That Marmoran may have repaired it, but he was going to tear it to shred for good.

"Lance!" Someone called through the static.

"Hunk! Help me!" Lance cried, his head rolling back to the floor and his muscles going limp. Lance felt Lotor flip him around. Lance whined, "No.."

"LANCE!"

Lance jerked forward, Hunk's scream making his heart thump a thousand miles a second. He planted his arms out, feeling his surroundings. Lotor was gone. The cockpit looked the same.

Hunk's face stood in front of him. He looked concerned; terrified.

Then, Hunk's voice. Gentle and so, so soft: "Hey, it's going to be okay. We're going to help you."

Lance's heart melted. He wasn't okay right now, but Hunk didn't tell him that. Hunk promised that he would be, one day. And he said they'd help. They'd protect him from Lotor and...

"He really messed me up, Hunk," Lance sobbed. Hunk didn't respond, he kept his eyes trained on Lance.

Finally, "Do you think you can sleep?"

Lance shook his head. "No, you—you go. I can't." Hunk looked like he wanted to say something, so, "My heart's beating, like, a thousand miles an hour. Please,"

A couple seconds of silence. "Well, I am pretty tired. Goodnight, Lance."

"Goodnight, Hunk."

Hunk vanished. He turned off his comms and left Lance staring at the cockpit. Lance gazed at the Yellow Lion, taking deep breaths. Was Hunk looking back? Or was he sleeping?

It didn't matter. Lance turned around, staring at the corner Lotor had entered through in his dream.

He was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait (and the short chapter). Those two things don't really compute, but I'm kinda jumping around on this one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Lance**  

* * *

"Are you ready? Lance?" Hunk asked from his lion. "We can stay here for a little while."

Lance swallowed, thinking of Keith. "Did—Did Shiro ever tell you about the day I was—about the day Lotor took me?"

Hunk stayed silent.

"Did you know he was there?" Lance asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He was picturing Shiro standing above him—his eyes blank.

"Yes," Hunk whispered. "He told us everything."

"He—" Lance stopped himself.

The team knew? Maybe that meant they knew what was wrong with Shiro. Maybe they knew how Lotor just... shut him down. Maybe that was why Shiro attacked him at the Kral Zera; he wanted to undo what he had done.

Or, Lance suspected, they knew Shiro let him go and didn't care. Lance wasn't any safer with them than he was with Lotor. His heart slowed down. Lance was suddenly able to see straight. He felt calm. He felt ready—and very able—to handle whatever torture laid beyond those walls.

"I'm ready now," Lance told Hunk. "I can handle it; I can face them."

****

Lance was prepared to face the team all at once. He stepped out of his Lion and looked for them. What he found was an empty cargo bay. Of course, they wouldn't be in his lion hangar. Lance released a shaky breath, letting his shoulders drop.

Lance spent the whole ride back trying to ease the tension in his body; in his mind. Nothing worked. His knuckles were white and clammy until he got to the grand hall.

It was empty; surreal. The lights were dimmed, not overwhelming. It reminded Lance of the way Lotor kept his surroundings tame so he wouldn't become overwhelmed. Lights, sounds, loud noises, all were dampened by Lotor's desire to protect him.

Lance didn't feel at home, though. The lights in the castle were white—light blue, even, in their hue. The lights on Lotor's ship were all soft shades of purple and pink, a few red at night to preserve his eyes...

Slowly, a small stream of soft lights turned on, leading him down the hall. Lance knew what this meant. He followed the lights.

They led him to his room. Lance stood, frozen, outside the door. Were they inside? Were they going to jump at him and shout "Surprise!"? If that was the case, Lance was not opening that door. He didn't want them to yell at him or startle him.

It wasn't that Lance thought he couldn't handle it. Lance had been through far worse... There was this level of protection Lance had wrapped around his privacy. He had what Lotor gave him. Now, Lance had what the team gave him. If they gave him his room, his freedom, and his privacy, he could be at peace. But if the team decided that his desires, his drive for the right to make his own decision, wasn't in his control, Lance couldn't handle that.

He could feel his body shutting down, his blood was draining into his shoes. His head felt light.

Lance didn't want them to be there. His room was his own, no one was going to be in there, ever. Lance didn't—he didn't...

Lance knelt on the floor, sitting on his ankles. His hands cupped his face, trying to keep himself from crying. He couldn't cry. If he cried, they might try to touch him to make him feel better. Then he'd ask them to leave and he'd ruin their relationship. It would be his fault for ruining the fun. He couldn't do it. He couldn't be the reason.

Every agonizing second he spent trying to pull himself together, he fell further apart. He was making them wait. He was letting them down. It wasn't fair. He just wanted to sleep! He wanted his own room, dark and easy to handle himself.

Lance was trying desperately to come up with ideas. What should he do? Lance couldn't stay here, on the floor, for much longer. What would they think? What would they expect? If Lance could knock on the door and ask them to leave, he'd prefer that. He'd even settle for asking them to start the party without him. That way, he could walk in any moment, no obligation on his end to follow their pace. He could collect himself knowing that he had the time to. Instead, every blood-curdling moment he spent on the floor he failed; he let them down.

He needed to get it together. Lance needed to fix this, now. If he just breaths even, stops crying, and walks in... They'll see his tear-stained face. He sobbed, biting his hand to muffle the sound. It echoed throughout the castle. They could hear him. Oh, god, they knew he was out there, not coming in.

How dare he not appreciate their surprise? How could he take issue with all the hard work they've done? Why is he wasting their time, scorning on their gift to cry on the floor?

It's selfish.

Ungrateful.

Lance stood up. His adrenaline kicked into gear and he opened the door. The panel slid—turning on the lights inside his quarters.

Lance held his breath, embarrassment and dread pooling in his gut. His room was empty. His friends weren't there. They weren't rude. They weren't going to throw a party that he didn't want. They weren't going to judge him for crying on the floor. It was cruel of him to think they would. It was an insult to their kindness. They know what's best for him, he shouldn't have been so eager to reject a gift.

Lance stepped inside, accepting their gift; his empty room. The lights were bright, too bright. Lance turned them off. He closed his door.

Lance swiveled. He pushed his palm to the door, not seeing it but feeling it. Would it open? If he wanted to leave, could he? What would happen if Lotor came looking for him and he was gone? Lance dropped his hand, closing his eyes until the darkness swallowed him. When he opened his eyes again, he was able to adapt to the room. He turned around, looking for his bed. He ran his hand along the covers; scratchy and rough. Lance opened his drawer, his baseball-tees still inside. They felt coarse.

Could Lance change?

Lance stripped off his shirt. The smooth, silken fabric caressed his sensitive skin as he lifted it over his head. Lance pulled his old shirt on, the same one he'd worn for over a year. he felt like it was strangling him. The neckline was too high. His shirt was tight in the chest and wouldn't let him move his arms. Lance decided that he wouldn't put the skinny jeans on.

As Lance poured over his possessions, his remnants of his old life, he started to feel incorrect. He was out of place.

Lance didn't belong in this room. It's barren, loaded with trinkets and video games and nothing with meaning. He had one shirt. One shirt recreated perfectly into a set of four; enough for each week. Was his life so empty? Did he really think because he loved a shirt so much he only needed one? What was the point in having clones of your favorite shirt? What made anything in here special?

Lance sat on the floor. His back pressed against the wall, yearning to melt into it. There was nothing here for him. No photos of his family. None of the jewelry his sisters made for him when he was a child. There was nothing here.

Where Lance had once hoped to find himself again, he realized he was always lost.

"I can never go home," Lance whispered.

His nerves settled. Lance can't have what he wants, so he shouldn't try. He won't get anything he needs, so he won't need it. There was a relaxing sensation to admitting defeat. Lance had no control. Good or bad, there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

Lance screamed.

His throat curdled as the raw sound was ripped out of his throat. He screamed again. Lance started shaking. Goosebumps covered his arms and legs. Lance ripped the shirt off. It was constructed, uncomfortable, and ugly. He threw it into the corner. Lance stood up, crossing the dark room and pulling his video games and equipment out fo the drawers. He threw them into the corner as hard as he could. He heard the metal and plastic pieces snap—break apart under the force of his throw. Lance cursed, throwing everything he could find. He braced his hands on his dresser and swept everything off the top. They clattered to the floor. He kicked the pieces into the corner.

Lance felt his head fizzing. Lance spun around and held his hands out, trying to find a wall, a surface, his bed—anything, before he fell. Lance spun, the floor tilting underneath him. He landed on his side, his arm pounding after hitting the floor.

Lance laid on the floor, feeling the dread take over again.

Lotor did this to him. Lotor made him a creature comforted by submission. Lance was a broken tool overstimulated by lights and sounds. Harsh noises also set him off. Lance was a damaged shell who couldn't handle the pressure of his own possessions. He had to make decisions now! He had to make his own choices! Lotor took all those away from him because they freaked him out. Because Lance's only choice, as long as he was with Lotor, was to escape. It was the only logical conclusion for a Paladin of Voltron to come to. He was supposed to fight and escape.

Not hold onto Lotor's shoulders, his face buried in his neck while he gasped his name...

Lance sobbed. He did this to himself. He never escaped. Lotor let him go. Lance was supposed to leave on his own—but Lotor didn't want him. Lotor couldn't handle Lance, either.

Someone's hand was on his knuckles. Sharp, delicate fingers traced the skin on his hand. Lance opened his eyes to darkness. No one was there. Still, Lance fell into the memory. Lotor's hands trailed up his arms, urging him to sit up. As usual, Lance sat with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap. Lotor rubbed his arms up and down. He pulled his hair back, letting the long strands sway between them. He leaned in, his lips placing a delicate kiss on Lance's forehead. He kissed his cheek. He kissed his other cheek.

"You're so strong."

Lance gasped.

You're so brave. You're so strong. You're doing so well. You're so strong, so beautiful. You're so strong—you are the strongest—

Lance screamed again. He was weak.

So fucking weak.

**** 

"Do you think he will come for you?" Pidge asked. She looked different. There was no glint on her glasses.

They'd dimmed the lights for him. Lance clenched his fists. Lotor's fault. It was Lotor's fault.

"No," Lance answered calmly. Lotor let him go. His husband didn't want him.

Hunk snapped upright like he'd been struck by lightning. "Yes."

Lance flinched, not expecting the sudden rise to his right. It was fine, it was fine. Lotor's fault. He kept his eyes closed, counting his breaths as Lotor told him to. He heard Allura his a warning at Hunk. Lance opened his eyes, staring across the table at Allura and Pidge. Hunk sat next two him at the table—an empty chair between them. Pidge sat directly across from him, the most unthreatening of all of them... physically.

"Where are Shiro and Coran?" Lance asked. "They should be here. This... This matters."

"No..." Allura whispered softly, staring intently. "Coran thought it would be best if he started reconnaissance right away."

"But... Lotor won't come after me." Lance said. "There's no need to—"

"Lance!" Hunk snapped. The girls hissed and panicked, trying to back him down.

"No, don't do that!" Lance demanded. "I know why Shiro isn't here. He attacked me and you think I'll freak out. Because he's big and threatening and has a white streak in his hair like Lotor. Because he let Lotor take me away."

They sat in silence. Pidge leaned forward first, "Wait, wha—"

Lance turned to Hunk before he could lose his train of thought. Lance knew he was smart, but he couldn't quite follow all of these strings of conversation. "Hunk, I want to hear it."

Hunk's jaw tightened. His hand flew up as if he were going to touch the newly-healed bruise on his bone. He dropped his hand, staring Lance down. "Lotor is dangerous."

Lance smirked. Oh, that was precious. Lotor sneaks into Hunk's cell to cheat on Lance and didn't follow through. He bruised his ribs and his jaw. Lotor had beaten the life out of Lance several times and Lance wasn't afraid he would come after him. He knew he wouldn't. "You're terrified of him."

Hunk turned to face Pidge and Aluura, completely ignoring Lance's accusation. "Lotor came after Lance immediately. almost shut the cargo doors as we were escaping."

"Lance..." Allura started. "I know you're... confused, but Lotor has come for you in the past—"

Lance held up his wrists. "He can't. The binds are gone. He has no way to track me."

Pidge shook her head. "Lance... that same energy signature from the bracelets, um, we—" Pidge looked nervously at Allura, who shook her head. "... We detected that same signature when you walked in."

Lance paled.

"It's in your system."

Lance felt his eyes grow warm, flashing white for an instant. Allura and Pidge leaned away, startled by the sudden, but quick, change to his irises. Lotor is ordering him to walk naked into a pool. Lance leaned his arms out, naked and exposed to the guards in the room. Lotor was beneath him, in the same quintessence pool. His quintessence flew up, filling Lance and overwhelming him flooding his system. Lance felt himself fight back, but the quintessence was too strong. It filled his soul with Lotor. Lotor, Lotor, nothing but Lotor and white lights.

"If you let us take you to the pods, we can—"

"No."

Pidge nodded. "Okay, but Lotor will come after you—"

"No," Lance repeated. "I know he won't because he's a good person." Lance scoffed. "You look at me like I'm crazy when I say that, but I know it. I've suffered because of it." Lance turned to face Allura. "You're people are alive. Ten-thousand years ago, Lotor found them and hid them in a colony—one the Galra couldn't find. He saved your species. He doesn't even want to rule the Galra. He's not ruling like Zarkon. He's going to end the war and make peace—it's all he ever talked about. His big dreams of the future! He captured Allura and used her to find Oriande and haggar went there and became an alchemist." Lance could see the terrified and hopeful shock on their faces, but Lance kept going. "He and Haggar are going to enter through the same inter-reality gates that Voltron came from and harvest enough quintessence to end the war."

Silence.

Lance tapped his fingers on the table, adding hesitantly. "If the Galra have enough quintessence, they won't harvest it from all these planets."

Pidge adjusted her glasses. Her mouth was agape. "That—that can't be true."

"It is. It is. He's a hero—a fucking Altean hero and he still—" Lance choked. "He's a good person," Lance said in a small voice.

Hunk moved a chair closer, putting his hand on Lance's arm. Lance's arms tensed, but he relaxed. Hunk seemed, unthreatening. "Okay... Okay... That's a lot of information. Okay? But, Lance. Just because he wants to end the war... just because he saved the—he's not a good person."

Lance's jaw quivered.

"He's not a good person. Look at what he's done—" Hunked stopped. "Bad men can do good things," He explained differently. "Lotor doesn't have to be a warmonger to be a terrible person. He's—"

Lance leaned forward, pulling back as he realized with horror: he was about to hug Hunk. Lance gagged, the urge to throw up very present.

Hunk grabbed his hand. "Oh, oh, Lance. I'm so sorry, let's—"

"Incoming transmission."

Lance flinched. His whole body jerked as the computer's loud voice spoke—the lights automatically turned on. Lance' breath was shaky, his heartbeat was really fast. He wiped some sweat from his forehead. It was his fault. Lance did this to himself.

"Lance, you should—" Allura stopped. "That's an Altean, that's an Altean Ship!"

Lance stood up, backing away from the table. "Wait..." Lotor found him. Lotor found him.

Allura accepted the call, revealing a human on the screen. No, a half Galra.

"Allura! We have an emerge—Lance?" Keith's voice broke.

Keith stared at him. His eyes were an intense purple. His jaw was sharper. His hair was longer. He had a shadow over his face. It was dirty and hot but... Lance swallowed. Lotor was going to kill him.

"You..." Lance cleared his throat, trying not to feel like every eye in the room was wide-eyed with tension. "You look bigger. I mean, your—your definitely bigger."

"Lance," Keith seemed at a loss for how to finish that sentence.

Allura stepped forward and spoke softly. "Keith, is everything alright?" Allura asked.

Keith looked at Allura, coming out of his shock. His face looked grave. His eyes flicked to Lance, freezing for another two seconds before darting to Allura. "I have news on Lotor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad I updated! It feels good to write again. I hope I was missed. 
> 
> Anyway... Life is hard and I have so many plans for this fic, so it'll be an interesting ride.


	5. Chapter 5

**Lance**

* * *

 

Keith's eyes darted around the screen. He couldn't seem to find someone to focus on. Keith gave Lance one fleeting look of concern before addressing Pidge, Allura, and Hunk. "I'll fill you in."

When the screen turned black, Lance protested. "Wait! No..."

It was too late. Keith had canceled the line. Lance felt something churning in his gut. He couldn't pinpoint what he was feeling. Part of it was dread; he had to talk to Keith now. Lotor wouldn't be too happy about that. But another part of it, a small, minor part was excitement. Lance was shaking. 

Probably from both.

Hunk's put his hand on Lance's shoulder. His presence felt oddly reassuring. Where was the Lance that was terrified to hug him a moment ago? And where was the Hunk that saw so clearly what Lance was feeling and apologized to Lance for it?

Lance cleared his throat, talking rapidly to fill the silence. "He's in an Altean Pod, he must've found the colony I was telling you guys about. He said he had news on Lotor..." 

Allura's eyes were hopeful and guarded. Even with the careful expression, Lance could still see Allura walking on glass, hoping not to push Lance over the edge. 

"It's okay," Lance whispered. "You're allowed to be happy. Your people are alive... It doesn't change anything for me."

Allura bit her lip. Her eyes welled with tears. "I have to tell Coran."

Lance nodded. "I'll tell Shiro." 

Pidge yelped. "I don't think that's such a good—"

"No," Lance protested. "it's okay. I need to see him... Besides, Keith is probably concerned that I'll freak out; hearing that the man who abused me saved the altean race. I know who Lotor is and what he's done to me. He may want the war to end, he may care about the Alteans, he may—but he...  _hurt_ me." Lance gasped, the words startling to hear come out of his own mouth. When had he even begun to think those things? 

Oh, right. When Lotor first told him about the colony. Back when Lance thought he was a damsel in distress, in the clutches of an 'evil' being that his friends hated. Finding out that his friends would stand in support of his mission to save the Alteans and end the war was a curse Lance never learned to live with. If Lotor was going to hurt him... rape him... the least he could have done was be an evil person. Saving the Alteans? How was Lance supposed to argue with him?

Clearly, everything he did had a higher purpose. Clearly, he was a good person. Clearly, Lance was cruel for tormenting him when he had so much on his plate. Lance should have trusted him. After all, he only hurt Lance because he was so dedicated to keeping his secret about the Alteans he couldn't tell a soul. But still, Lotor had loved Lance so much he took him anyway. 

Hunks hand was rubbing his back. Lance's hands were on his knees, his body hunched over to catch his breath. God, he was so confused. 

"It's okay," Lance waved Hunk away. "It's—I would really like to see Shiro. I'll tell him about everything."

"Lance..." Pidge warned. "What do you mean he let you go and did nothing?"

Lance stopped, his mind snapping. "I—I don't know. I just... I guess I blamed him for so long. Lotor bested him. I was," Lance gagged. "I was injured and on the floor; I couldn't breath and they fought and..."

Pidge leaned back, understanding crossing her face. 

"For so long, hating Lotor for taking me got me punished. He'd do terrible things any time I brought up that fact that I was his prisoner. He always wanted to ignore it; like he hadn't abducted me or raped me... He acted like we were dating. After a while, I realized—because I couldn't show my anger and hatred for him—I couldn't be angry or hateful at all; not at him. I blamed Shiro," Lance sighed. "I blamed him for so long... And he tried so hard..." 

"He's on the training deck," Hunk told him. 

Lance smiled, wiping a tear from his face. "Thank you. Tell Keith—tell him I know."

Lance turned and left. 

* * *

 

The training deck. It made Lance's blood pump straight into his head. His adrenaline was running wild, telling him to fight or flee. But Lotor retrained his fear. Lance was staring at a trigger of his current stress, knowing he should avoid it. Yet, he still went inside; facing down the object of his terror. For a moment, he felt invincible. 

Then he saw Shiro. 

Blank, red eyes.

Blank face. 

Lotor scoops Lance into his arms. Lance closes his eyes, he feels like he's going to die. He wakes on the green lion. 

Oh, Lance thought. He hadn't imagined it. He growled. "How could you not protect me?!" 

Shiro flinched, turning to face Lance. His eyes were sad but alive. "Lance!" The relief on his face died. "... What?"

"You just stood there!" Lance cried, red-hot tears streaking down his face. "You were supposed to protect me! You were our leader—my leader! You just... Why Shiro?"

Shiro looked afraid. Was he thinking Lance wouldn't confront him? 

"WHY?!" Lance screamed. 

"I don't—" Shiro caught his breath, lowering his voice from that yell. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

Lance reeled back. "Excuse me? How could you not know? You came in, I was laying there," Lance pointed. His voice cracked. "Crying. Begging for your help. Pleading that someone would save me from him—so he'd never touch me or make me feel like that again—and you stood there. You ran right up and stopped."

"Lance..." Shiro cried, his prosthetic covering his mouth and muffling his sob. 

"I was seventeen!" Lance growled. "I'm almost nineteen, now. I will never be the same again! I can't even wear my own clothes without wanting to set my skin on fire! I can't hug Hunk without fearing retribution! I can't—" Lance sobbed, hugging his stomach. "I can't—I can't even leave my room without wondering—what would Lotor do to me if I'm not in my room, where I'm supposed to be?" 

"Lance," Shiro held up his hands, crying openly now. "He can't hurt you—"

"He's not even here!" Lance screamed. "He's the first person I think of when I do... ANYTHING! What would he say? What would he want? What will he do to me? What will Shiro lt him do?"

Lance collapsed, falling into Shiro's arms. His body tensed. When had Shiro gotten so close? He must've been walking towards him as he yelled. Lance sobbed into his chest. 

Shiro stuttered. "is this—can I hold you?" 

Lance screamed, clawing at Shiro's shirt. "I don't know!"

Shiro slowly started to stroke Lance's hair, protecting him as if he were is own child. "It's okay, I've got you now. You're safe. I'll protect you."

Lance choked. "But you didn't." He pulled himself of Shiro's chest, still clutching his arms. "Why?"

"Lance... I blacked out. I don't remember fighting Lotor at all. I don't remember and the cameras were wiped," Shiro explained. 

Lance swallowed. "I told Pidge I blamed you out of misplaced anger—" Shiro flinched. "It wasn't all misplaced. I know what I saw. You just stood there."

"Lance... I'm getting these headaches. I don't remember the Kral Zera, either. I told the team I was just trying to get you back because I believed it was what's best for you; only you wouldn't come willingly. But I don't remember. I just remember the headache. The pain. Same as when... Same as when Lotor took you. I woke up with the most unbelievable pain in my skull, facedown in the mat."

Lance froze. That was terrifying. Shiro wasn't in control? He was having absences in his memories? Every time he described was a time when Lotor had wanted something. First, when Lotor abducted him. A second time, when Shiro drove Lance away from the Paladins—away from his friends.

For an instant, Lance saw Lotor standing in front of him. His white hair draped over his forehead.

How does Lance survive this? He needs to placate Shiro. He needs to escape this situation as fast as he can—before he gets hurt.

"Okay..." Lance reassured him. He grabbed Shiro's wrists, pushing on them slightly to get Shiro to let go. Shiro didn't. "We'll help you." 

Shiro squeezed him tighter. It could have been out of hope or fear, but it felt hostile. Lance's brain was trying to figure out how to respond to this attack. Scream and hit him? No, Lotor wouldn't appreciate another freakout. Yell and fight back? Lance wanted to, but he couldn't risk agitating Shiro. Submit? No... Lance was done with that.

"Shiro, let me go, please," Lance pleaded. Maybe if he appeared weak and small, Shiro would pity him—it worked on Lotor  _all the time._

Shiro froze. His lips were trembling. His eyes were scared. His pupils compressed and dilated, his gray irises shifting in their intensity. "... L—Lance..."

Shiro's entire back became rigid. His shoulders aligned and held firm. He stood up taller. The redness around his eyes disappeared. The shaking stopped. His fear left him. In the blink of an eye, the pupils of his eyes turned red. 

Lance gasped. "No..." This is what Shiro looked like; emotionless, stoic, and robotic. "Shiro?"

Lance's shoulder seared with pain. It was blinding, burning... Shiro's hand was burning his left shoulder, right by the neck. He'd turned his Galra hand on and was cutting in into Lance's skin. 

"Shiro!" Lance cried.

Lance tried to push him away but he didn't have the strength. Shiro was immovable. His hand grabbed Lance tight. Lance arched his back, screaming from the pain. He opened his eyes through the scorching experience and saw Shiro through the purple light. Lance could smell his own flesh. He gagged. Shiro's solid grip was the only reason he didn't fall to the ground. Lance tried desperately to stay awake, black dots spotting his vision. Shiro was pushing him down. lance buckled his knees. Maybe, he could keep Shiro from forcing him to the floor. Lance collapsed. Shiro was still burning into his arm as he screamed on the ground.

Shiro whispered, his eyes red, "It's time to come home."

All Lance could remember was begging himself to not pass out. If he passed out, he'd wake u with Lotor. He wasn't wearing the clothes Lotor gave him. He was wearing his old jacket and jeans. Lotor would kill him. He'd kill him for leaving. Lotor would expect him to play nice and thank him. Lotor would expect him to sleep with him. However, if Lance seemed too okay, he'd be accused of faking and punished. But if he resisted, or appeared too hesitant, Lotor would punish him.

 _I can't go back. I can't go back. I can't pass out._  

Lance passed out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a strange request: if you feel the inspiration, I would love it if you could give me your opinions on my story: what you love, what you hate, what you think I'm good/bad at, some constructive critisism, your hoped or fears for the fic... Seriously, comments inspire me to write more, but I want to do better. 
> 
> I've never had a Beta or an editor, so I rarely get feedback. I'd love some.


	6. Chapter 6

**Keith**  

* * *

Keith's heart was pounding against his ribcage. He was on his way to deliver horrible, horrible new to the paladins.

He'd been gone for two years—having run off like a coward after the Kral Zera. Keith just... he just couldn't watch Lance be hurt anymore. He felt weak for leaving. He felt cruel for looking the other way. But Pidge said it best: _"This has been harder on you than anyone else. You should go."_

The worst part? No one could openly acknowledge Keith's feelings for Lance. No one acknowledged Lance's feelings for Keith. 

After Lance married Lotor—setting Keith free—Coran set them all down in the paladin's lounge to explain some things to them. After an in-depth, several hour-long session with Keith describing  _every detail_ from seeing Lance the way he was... Coran felt they should be educated on the possibilities of Lance's condition. He explained several concepts to them; one being Lance's need to give them up to survive.

Coran explained what they should and shouldn't do when they saw Lance again. No one should rush to hug him. No one should mention Lotor. No one should try to get him away from Lotor. 

No one should assume Lance wants to escape Lotor. 

That was the hardest to hear. Not _'_ _no one should assume Lance feels safe enough,'_ or  _'_ _no one should expect Lance to be able to,' j_ ust:  _No one should assume Lance_ wants  _to escape Lotor._

Hearing that Lance might have convinced himself he's in love with Lotor... Keith threw up. 

Then, in that same meeting, Coran explained that Lance's old connections might be a dangerous subject for him. Being close friends with Hunk... His embarrassing stories about how Shiro's poster made him bi, his constant flirting with Allura, and...

Everyone in the room looked at Keith. 

They all knew. It wasn't subtle. It wasn't obvious, either. It's not like they were flirting outright. They were soft around each other. They were kind. Lance and Keith spoke to each other in gentle, affectionate voices. They touched casually for reassurance. Lance would fly Keith out in the Red Lion, letting Keith feel his old friend purring in his mind... Just the two of them, bonding over something familiar—growing together. 

Keith wiped away his tears. Lance was  _home._  It had been so long, Keith didn't suspect anything was wrong; he was so happy.

After Lance left, Keith was even more determined to get him back. Afterall, Keith failed to see the signs. Keith was going to save him. 

Keith went to the Blades to track the quintessence. He wound up at the Kral Zera, where, it seemed, Shiro tried to take Lance by force. Keith would have done it too. To save Lance, Keith would have done anything. When the time came to save Lance, Lance saved Keith. So Pidge encouraged Keith to leave for good. Keith listened so that he could find the quintessence... And he did.

Keith knew, objectively, that Lance hadn't been Lotor's slave for an entire two more years, but every week that passed on that whale brought Keith agony. Keith had lived two more years-- three total-- of course, his desperation to find that quintessence wasn't unbiased. Keith knew it would lead them to Lotor. For god's sakes, those damn chains on Lance's wrists were powered by an unknown energy source-- Pidge couldn't break them. With this new information, Keith knew they could find a way to get them off of Lance. If they could just find out how and where Lotor got his quintessence...

They can use it to trace Lotor, just as Lotor traces Lance. They could take Lance by force and hold him until he sobers up. 

Keith, Krolia, and Romelle neared the castle in the stolen Altean Pod. Keith went to the bridge alone to call the castle. If it took two years to get the information to set Lance free, it was worth it. It was time to bring Lance home.

"Allura!" He called, keeping his voice even.  "We have an emerge—Lance?" Keith felt his voice shatter. 

His brain seemed to zero-in on Lance's form. Lance was in his own clothes. He was standing with Allura, Hunk, and Pidge. His eyes were red; he'd been crying. How long ago had they saved him? When was he... Keith exhaled. He couldn't think. His brain and heart were chanting together,  _Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance..._

Lance's mouth was hanging open. He seemed in awe at Keith, taking in each of his chiseled, more rugged features. Oh, no. What if Keith was scary to him now? Lance swallowed, fear palpable on his face. Keith's heart broke.

"You..." Lance cleared his throat, coughing and rubbing his chest. "You look bigger. I mean, your—your definitely bigger."

Allura was looking at Keith in alarm. She was scared.

_Oh,_ Keith realized.  _They've only just got him back._

That meant Keith's information was still vital. Lotor could be tracking Lance this very minute.

Keith thought to every rule Coran established to help them protect Lance. Don't scare him. If you can't talk about Lotor on his terms, don't talk about him at all... Keith needed to explain what had happened. He needed to warn them of the imminent problem—only, it wasn't so pressing, anymore. Who cared if they could track Lotor and remove the chains? Lance was home. Keith's eyes darted to Lance's wrists. The chains were already gone! Keith's chest swelled with relief and gratitude.

" _Lance_ ," Keith exhaled, unable to say, or think, anything else. Nothing was more important.

"Keith," Allura prompted gently. 

_They're all trying to help Lance._  Keith realized. _Look at the lights, they're dimmed, no one is standing too close to him.. They're afraid of scaring him._  

Allura continued, not ordering Keith, or telling him to be cautious around Lance, but pleading with him all the same. "Is everything alright?" 

Keith gasped, he hoped no one noticed. _No._ Lotor has been harvesting Altean quintessence. What would Lance think? What would Lance feel obligated to do if he knew they had intimate knowledge of Lotor's colony. He'd have to warn him; Lance's brain is convinced he'll be hurt if he doesn't. Coran explained that. 

Keith checked Lance's wrist again. They were still blank. No creepy altean quintessence trackers. It wasn't pressing. It could wait; for Lance. "I have news on Lotor."

Allura nodded her understanding. She seemed determined... oddly aware of what Keith was thinking. Did they already know? Did Lance know? Did Lance tell them? That was good, right?

"I'll fill you in," Keith said. He cut the communication. 

Just after, he found himself looking at the floor. He'd fallen on his knees. He wasn't breathing. His wolf licked his face. Keith stood, facing Krolia and Romelle. How long had he been on the ground for?

Keith sobbed. "Krolia... Remember, I told you about Lance?"

She nodded. 

"He's on the castle. He's—He's  _alive._ " Keith covered his mouth. He would compose himself. 

"That's amazing news, Keith."

Romelle raised a hand innocently. 

"I'll explain everything," Keith reassured her, not wanting to volunteer the fact that Lance married the man who killed her brother. "I promise. Now let's go tell them what we found."

 

* * *

 

Keith was steering them around when he saw the hangar door open. Pidge was waiting for them inside. She waved mutedly. 

"The situation with Lance must be serious," Krolia surmised. "Do you think Lotor is coming for him?"

"Why would Lotor go after Lance?" Romelle asked. 

Keith waited, coming up with a satisfactory answer. "Because he's obsessed with him."  

Romelle leaned away. "He's... The Red Prince?"

"The Red..." Keith clenched his jaw. He tried to keep his breathing even. He tried to stay calm. But he couldn't. Lotor forced a colony of innocent Alteans to praise him. He flaunted his—his _trophy_ in front of them. Keith screamed, kicking the control panel. 

"Keith," Krolia said, her voice monotone but alert. 

"I know," Keith breathed. He needed to focus. _Patience_ _yields_ _focus_. "I know..."

" _No_ ," She responded. She nodded towards Pidge and Coran. "They're here."

He ran back to the end of the ship. He lowered the plank to meet the others. As soon as it hit the ground, Keith jumped out of the pod, running to meet them. 

"Allura!" Keith panicked. "Where's Lance?"

"He's safe," Allura reassured him. "He's with Shiro."

Keith clenched his jaw. He could feel the tears coming, but he would not let them flow. "He's with Shiro? He's safe?  _He's safe?_ " 

Hunk rushed forward, hugging Keith with all of his bear strength. "He's safe. We got him. He's with us." 

Keith couldn't wait anymore. He melted down, burying his face in Hunk's shoulder. He sobbed against him. "I thought..."

Keith shook his head, holding Hunk tighter. He could hear the others talking. He could hear Romelle recounting her tale to Allura and Coran. But it all died down as soon as Hunk started whispering in his ear.

"Lance isn't safe," Hunk mumbled. 

Keith's blood melted into his feet. 

"Lotor is coming for him, I know it." Hunk squeezed him before letting go. "No matter what Coran says... I need one of us to be with Lance, at all times."

"What about Pidge? Shiro?"

Hunk shook his head. "He's different now. He'll overpower her if that's what it takes."

"Shiro?" Keith asked, already knkwing the answer. 

"I don't trust him with Lance."

"Neither do I."

 Keith turned to Coran. "I want to see Lance." 

The entire room froze. No one said anything. No one moved. 

"Is everything alright?" Krolia asked. 

Her question went unanswerwd for a long time. Keith clenched his jaw. "I'm going to see him. Now where are they? Lance and Shiro?"

"The training deck," Hunk caved. 

"Thank you," Keith patted Hunk's shoulder. 

As he exited, his friends broke free of their paralysis. All yelled some kind of warning or asked for caution. Keith brushed them off.

 

* * *

 

 

"Hello?" Keith called.

The room was empty. The lights were off. Every light in the castle was currently off or dimmed. They could've walked out and Keith not seen. Keith poked his head out of the training deck. The hallways close by were so short they could be in any room. The longest was too dark to see down. 

Keith returned to the empty room. Something... smelled. Keith approached the smell, finding a large black scorchmark of steaming metal on the floor. Keith gagged. 

He touched the metal where it was darkest. "Ah!" 

Keith flapped his hand in the air. He cradled his fingers against his chest, whimpering in pain. He looked at his hand, he couldn't see the burn through the charred black pieces on the floor. Keith paused. The area where he touched the floor was a white-silver. 

Keith checked his hand. The deep red pieces on his hand were hard on the edges, sticking to his flesh by the center. He sniffed it. Before he could stop himself, he hunched over, salt and acid lurging from his stomach onto the floor. Keith's eyes watered as they burned. 

Keith couldn't breath. He was on his hands and knees, his hand leaving streaks of vibrant red everywhere he touched. 

It took Keith another minute to put two and two together. He looked at the steaming hot floor, the burn on his hand, and the streaks of blood over the metal. Keith crept closer to the spot on the floor. He held his uninjured hand over the scorch. It wasn't warm. It was cool. He touched the floor again. This time, his hand came up red, not black, and the floor didn't burn him. 

It had cooled already. 

Keith grabbed the thickest black piece of whatever was burned. It was doused in the thick, sticky black char that was all over the floor. It was flexible but coarse. The substance stained it black, but it was green and brown. 

_You're in shock._ Keith's head whispered. 

Keith gasped; Lance's jacket. 

_And the floor has already cooled._ Keith's head reminded him. They had just left, so this must've happened the moment before Keith walked in-- otherwise it wouldn't have burned him. Keith would've seen them leave through the front door. 

Keith got up, cradling his burnt hand as he ran through the other exit. The hallway was lit to half capacity. Before he could stop himself, Keith called out foolishly. "Lance!"

As Keith approached the hangar, he was blinded by the lights. He held his burnt hand up, sheilding himself. When he opened his eyes, he was staring right at Shiro. Keith drew his sword, nearly dropping it. He fought through the blinding pain in his hand and prepared to leap at the craft. 

Shiro and Keith made eye contact. "S-- Shiro?" 

The shields on the pod obscured him from view. Keith failed. He dropped his sword and approached the craft, praying Shiro would allow him to board. 

Keith was thrown from where he stood. When his head hit the back of the wall, he lost his sight. 

 

* * *

 

 

Through the faintest crack in his eye, Keith could see his mom.

"Stay down!" She urged. 

"Lance... He has Lance."

"What? No!" Hunk cried. Though Keith coulsn't see him, he heard the panic in his voice. 

"What's happened?" Pidge yelled over the gunfire.

"Lotor's generals took Lance and Shiro!" Hunk yelled. "Lotor has Lance!"

Keith shook his head, pleading with Krolia. He couldn't speak. His mouth tasted like metal. "The generals... Shiro escaped. They're buying time! We have to move now!"

"Escaped?" She asked, firing blindly to her right. 

"He's... He's not right." Keith tried to pry himself up.

"Stay down."

"Lance is dying. He's injured. We have to get him back!" 

"Keith-- I don't think--" Krolia lunged, throwing her body on top of Keith to sheild him. "What the hell?"

Keith laughed. The black lion had just thrown itself into the bay, blocking them from the generals gunfire. When Black opened it's mouth, Keith stood, adrenaline rushing through his limbs. "Everybody! Get in your lions! We're going after Shiro!"

 

 

* * *

 

 

Allura was in blue, flying as fast as she could. Hunk and Pidge charged next to him in Yellow and Green. Keith was lagging, black not moving as fast as he wanted. Black never moved as fast as he wanted. Keith closed his eyes.

He heard his friends crying out for help. "A wormhole! Haggar must be helping him!"

Keith drowned out the echoeing cries and focused on the problem at hand. 

"Lance..." He whispered. He clenched his teeth. He tried pushing the lion forward faster, but it wouldn't go. He leaned back, arching his back as he called out, " _Lance_!"

Keith's mind flashed... somewhere else. For an instant, he was standing in front of Shiro. Shiro's skin was glowing purple in front of an event horizon. Little red and blue stars floated around him. Shiro vanished. The stars in front of him started spirling, blending into purple until... Keith was in the bathroom. 

...  _Okay..._ Keith thought. 

_Keith turned around, finding himself face to face with Lance. Lance looked horrifying. His neck was littered with bruises. His jaw had a disgustingly sharp purple rash across it. His wrists were carved with purple fingerprints... But it wasn't as bad as it had been before. He had simple, elegant, and gorgeous jewelry on his wrists, necklace, and ears._

_"Did he put those on you?" Keith heard himself ask. His voice echoed, rippling throughout the red and blue stars._

_Lance smiled, his lips turning downward; a sad smile. He shook his head. "I have a full wardrobe—entire rooms of clothes and jewelry."_

_Keith flinched. The last thing he wanted to hear was that Lance was treated_  well. _He knew it was selfish, but it was so much easier to picture Lance,_ Keith's  _Lance, sitting in a cell, praying for rescue. Not... Not the Lance that married Lotor to save Keith._

"I _picked these out," Lance explained._

_Keith nodded, trying to appear as calm and rational—as reserved as he could. He looked at the jewelry, the simple, elegant pieces Lance had chosen to wear. They weren't extravagant jewels that_ Lotor  _put on him... Lance chose them himself. It made Keith feel better for being attracted to him._

_"Why?" Lance asked._

_Keith didn't see the point in lying. "You looked nice."_

Keith opened his eyes, his vision seeing farther than before. He could hear Shiro's voice in his head:  _See through the Lion's eyes._

Keith concentrated on the altean pod. The wormhole around it was closing. The Lions around him weren't getting there any faster than he was. 

"Fall back," Keith commanded. 

"What?" Hunk yelped. "We can't—"

"That's an order!" Keith yelled, sitting up straighter. "I can do it but you have to  _back off._ " 

Keith closed his eyes after they left. Now that the other Lions were clear, he concentrated on seeing _through_ his Lion. He concentrated on finding Lance. The space around the Black Lion started to glow. Suddenly, the Lion surged forward, leaving trails of purple and violet-red dust in its wake. Black had wings and the most powerful thrusters just waiting to be used.

The wormhole closed.

But not before Keith got through it.


End file.
